Camp Daniel Boone

Few summer memories are as exciting and vivid as my time spent at hemophilia week at Camp Daniel Boone! As a person with Von Willebrand's Disease, I was allowed to participate in hemophilia week. Since hemophilia is a male-only disease, there were no girls at Camp Daniel Boone my first several years there. It was pure bliss! A whole bunch of guys staying in cabins and doing "camp things!"

Camp was a place where we fished, swam, played hide and seek in the woods at night and competed in the Camp Olympics. Unfortunately it was also a place where we had to ride horses and stitch stupid wallets and coin purses to take home for our parents who were dreading getting another stupid craft from camp, but I have tried to forget about those times.

I was made for camp. Each year, Mom dutifully packed my bag for camp; ensuring there were adequate numbers of clean socks and underwear, along with all of the other camp necessities. Mom even included pre-addressed, stamped envelopes so I could write home. Somehow I forgot to write those letters so in later years she later included pre-written, multiple choice letters, as well, where I could just circle the appropriate information like:

My favorite activity so far has been:

1. Fishing
2. Canoeing
3. Camp Olympics
4. Other ___________________

That didn't really work so well, either. I somehow kind of forgot to send those letters, too. Certainly she didn't really expect me to stop doing "camp things" to do something as silly as write a letter to my mother! 

Mom once accused me of failing to change clothes at any point during my week at camp. Her story was that my suitcase returned home still very neatly packed. I know this story to be false. Although I very well may have failed to change my clothes; my suitcase would most certainly be a wreck. I would have had to get my swim trunks and towel out for pool time and every suitcase in the cabin was routinely searched by all of the cabin mates for hidden candy or other treats from home. Therefore, it was impossible for my suitcase to have returned home neatly packed.

As for changing clothes - well a camp full of boys really didn't care if you were filthy and smelly because they were all planning on returning home the same way! The counselors were diligent in making sure we showered before and after getting out of the pool, so that helped keep the overall filth and smell to a more moderate level.

Camp Daniel Boone changed the rules to allow girls at hemophilia week during my last two years. I was horrified that there would be girls at camp; including my sisters!!! Having girls around would ruin everything!

Debbie was too old to be a camper, so she went as a cabin assistant counselor, or some such thing. Now, Wayne was one of the male counselors who took a fancy to Debbie her first year there. They continued to write after that first year - until Debbie met Harold! Wayne at a distance just wasn't as cool as Harold nearby, I guess. 

The camp director sent letters to the parents after each week of camp to talk about what we did and, of course, how we did. My letter always reflected how well I fit into the camp culture; how I did everything with great enthusiasm; how I seemed to be born to be at camp.

Now Kim's letter was a bit different. The camp told Mom and Dad what I could have told them long before they ever made the decision to send Kim to Camp Daniel Boone; mainly that Kim was miserable, made everyone around her miserable, used all of the camp's water supply for her multiple showers every day and her total lack of ability to fit in with normal people. Their letter couched their real meaning behind secret code words, though. Words like, "We believe Kim would be better suited to a different environment in the future." In other words; all of those things I could have told them but they were too chicken to say. They practically begged our parents never to send Kim to Camp Daniel Boone again!

Dad died shortly before our last year at Camp Daniel Boone. It was closer for Mom to drop us off at camp instead of driving all the way back into St. Louis to catch the camp bus. We got there a bit before the bus and I discovered that I would be in Wayne's cabin. Wayne was still rather smitten with Debbie. I couldn't figure out why. She was, after all, just Debbie. It's not like she was anything special. She was my sister!

I was instructed not to share information about Harold with Wayne. I was totally obedient to that instruction; that is until Wayne offered me a whole bag of lemon drops in exchange for information. We're not talking the little bag you get off the rack at the checkout line. No! We were talking the huge, family-size bag of lemon drops. That much candy would make me the candy trading king of our cabin. 

Everyone would be jealous.

Everyone would want to trade bits and pieces of whatever they had.

So I did what every self-respecting twelve year old kid would do under those circumstances; I sang like a canary! Wayne was my buddy. Wayne provided huge quantities of candy. Wayne was cool. Debbie was just my sister. The scales fell heavily to Wayne.

Debbie wasn't too happy, of course. I on the other hand was the candy ruler of my cabin. I figured it was a good trade off!

Mom didn't see it the same way. Debbie, of course, didn't end up with either Wayne or Harold so I don't know what the big deal was...